Two by Two(63)

"Let's just get this over with."





London handled it better than I thought she would, but then again, it  was clear to me London was so exhausted that her attention seemed to  wander. Add in her runny nose, and I had the sense that what she really  wanted was to go to sleep.

As I'd expected, Vivian omitted much of the truth and kept the  conversation so short that I found myself wondering why she'd deemed it  so critical in the first place. By the end, I suspected London had no  idea that anything was actually changing between Vivian and me; she was  as used to Vivian traveling as I was. The only time she became upset was  when it came time for Vivian to leave. Both she and Vivian were in  tears as they hugged goodbye in the driveway, and London's sobs grew  worse as Vivian finally pulled away.

I carried her inside, my shirt growing damp in spots from her tears. Her  bedroom smelled like a farm; in addition to cleaning the kitchen, I  would have to clean the hamster cage. I gave London some additional cold  medicine, put her in bed. She scooted closer to me and I slipped my arm  around her.

"I wish Mommy didn't have to leave," she said.

"I know it's hard," I said. "Did you have a good time this weekend?"

When she nodded, I went on. "What did you do?"

"We went shopping and watched movies. We also went to the petting zoo.  They had these cute goats that fall over onto their sides when they get  scared, but I didn't scare them."

"Did you go to the park? Or ride your bike?"

"No. I rode the carousel at the mall, though. I rode a unicorn."

"That sounds fun."

She nodded again. "Mommy said you have to remember to clean the hamster cage."

"I know," I said. "The cage is kind of smelly tonight."

"Yeah," she said. "Mommy didn't want to hold Mr. or Mrs. Sprinkles because they were smelly, too. I think they need a bath."

"I don't know if hamsters can take baths. I'll find out."

"On the computer?"

"Yes."

"The computer knows a lot of stuff," she said.

"It sure does."

"Hey, Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go bike riding?"

"How about we give it a couple of days, until you feel better. You also have dance class, remember?"

"I remember," she said without enthusiasm.

Trying to keep her slightly improved mood from going downhill, I brightened. "Did you get to see Bodhi this weekend?'

"He was in art class. I painted my vase."

"With yellow flowers? And pink mouses? Can I see it?"

"Mommy took it with her. She said it was really pretty."

"I'm sure it was," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. "I wish I could have seen it."

"Do you want me to make you one? I can. And I think I can paint my mouses even better."

"I'd love that, sweetie."





I cleaned the hamster cage and the kitchen; though I hadn't noticed  earlier, I also had to straighten up the family room. Barbies and their  accessories had been strewn about, blankets needed to be folded and  returned to the appropriate chest, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn had  to be emptied into the trash before being washed and dried. Remembering I  still had dinners my mom had prepared, I moved a few Tupperware  containers from the freezer to the refrigerator. I also unloaded the  groceries I'd picked up with Liz and Marge earlier.

Later, I crawled into bed and caught the scent of perfume, one that I  knew Vivian had been wearing. It was light and flowery but otherwise  unknown to me, and I knew I'd never sleep. I stripped the bedding and  put clean sheets on the bed. I wondered if she'd intended any message by  leaving behind dirty sheets or a messy house. It might have been anger,  but I didn't think so. My gut was telling me that she no longer cared  how I might feel because she no longer cared about me at all.         

     



 





CHAPTER 17





Moving Forward and Backward


When I was dating Emily-before I did something stupid-we spent the first  week of July in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. With two other couples,  we'd rented a house close enough to the water that we could hear the  waves breaking in unrelenting rhythm. Though we'd split the rent three  ways, it was still a stretch for all of us, so we'd brought coolers  packed with food we'd purchased at the grocery store. We planned to cook  instead of going out to restaurants, and as the sun started to go down,  we'd fire up the grill and start our feast. In the evenings, we'd drink  beer on the porch to the sound of the radio, and I can remember  thinking that it was the first of many such vacations Emily and I would  end up taking together.

The Fourth of July was particularly special. Emily and I woke before the  others, walking the beach as the sun began to rise. By the time  everyone got out of bed, we'd set up our spot on the beach, complete  with a steamer I'd rented to cook the scallops and shrimp that had been  unloaded at the docks only a few hours earlier. We supplemented the  seafood with corn on the cob and potato salad, and set up an inexpensive  volleyball net. When our friends finally joined us, we spent the rest  of the day in the sun, kicking back, wading in the surf, and coating  ourselves with sunscreen.

There was a carnival in town that week, set up in the main traffic  circle near the beach, about a quarter mile from where we were staying.  It was one of those traveling carnivals, with rickety rides, overpriced  tickets, and games that were almost impossible to win. There was,  however, a Ferris wheel, and half an hour before the fireworks were  supposed to start, Emily and I ditched the group and climbed aboard the  ride. I figured we'd have plenty of time to rejoin our friends  afterward, but as fate would have it, the ride broke down just as Emily  and I reached the apex.

While stalled at the top, I could see workers tinkering with either the  engine or the generator; later, I saw someone race off, only to return  carrying a large and obviously heavy toolbox. The ride operator shouted  up to us that he'd have the ride working again shortly, but warned us  not to rock the carts.

Though the day had been sweltering, the wind was gusting, and I slipped  my arm around Emily as she leaned into me. She wasn't frightened, nor  was I; even if the engine was fried, I was sure there was some sort of  manual hand crank they could use to eventually unload everyone. From our  vantage point in the sky, we watched people as they moved among the  carnival booths, and stared at the carpet of house and streetlights that  seemed to stretch for miles. In time, I heard the familiar thwump of a  firework being launched from a barge off shore just before sparkling  fingers of gold and green and red expanded across the sky. Wow, Emily  breathed, something she repeated throughout the hour and a half we  remained stuck on the Ferris wheel. The wind was pushing the scent of  gunpowder down the beach, and as I pulled Emily closer I remember  thinking that I would propose to Emily before the year was up.

It was around that time that our friends finally spotted us. They were  on the beach, people in miniature, and when they figured out that we  were stuck, they began to whoop and point. One of the girls shouted up  to us that if we planned on spending the night up there, we should  probably order a pizza.

Emily giggled, before growing quiet.

"I'm going to pretend that you paid the workers down there to stall the Ferris wheel on purpose," she finally said.

"Why?"

"Because," she said, "for as long as I live, I don't think another Fourth of July will ever measure up to this one."





On Monday morning, London woke with a red nose and continuing sniffles.  Though she wasn't coughing, I debated whether to send her to school, but  when I suggested as much, she began to fuss.

"The teacher is bringing in her goldfish today, and I get to feed him! Plus, it's coloring day."

I wasn't sure what coloring day entailed, but it was obviously a big  deal to her. I gave her some cold medicine at breakfast, and she skipped  off to class. I noticed when dropping London off that the teacher had a  cold too, which made me feel better about my decision.

On my way back to the car, I caught myself wondering what Vivian was  doing and immediately shoved the thought away. Who cares? I reminded  myself, but more important, I had a commercial to film later that week  and another client I needed to impress.

At the office I was swamped with work. I confirmed everything I needed  to film Taglieri's third commercial on Friday. I touched base with the  tech guy for the plastic surgeon, and even managed to meet with an  animal trainer who claimed to have just the dog I needed to film the  fourth commercial for Taglieri. We set a date for filming on Thursday of  the following week.         

     



 

Which meant, fortunately, that I didn't have time to think about Vivian much at all.





The settlement agreement was delivered via FedEx on Tuesday afternoon.  It also came via email, but I couldn't bring myself to read either  version. Instead, I called Joey Taglieri and asked if he would look it  over. We agreed to meet at an Italian restaurant not far from his office  the following day.